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“She would look wistfully at the sky, and she relished her favourite freezing cold, north-easterly winds, that blew bitter draughts that mixed with her drifting tobacco smoke throughout the home, ‘They are the spirits of the old country,’ she would always say.” — Jim Lowe
She would look wistfully at the sky, and she relished her favourite freezing cold, north-easterly winds, that blew bitter draughts that mixed with her drifting tobacco smoke throughout the home, ‘They are the spirits of the old country,’ she would always say.